


Intervention

by TheSeabear



Series: Stavik [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeabear/pseuds/TheSeabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Witching Hour, there was a moment when Stavik thought about the time his parents almost decided to forgo the second five-year mission for the sake of their family. This is that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spock left the Academy on Friday afternoon in the midst of the largest thunderstorm San Francisco had seen in three years. His bondmate taught as well, but having no Friday classes, Jim had opted for a ‘lazy day’ during which he would no doubt distract Stavik from his studies. 

The Enterprise sat docked several thousand kilometers above Earth, personally looked after by Lieutenant Commander Scott while undergoing repairs and upgrades. 

The townhome they kept near campus was close enough to walk to, but given the severe forecast, he had chosen to drive. Spock buckled in and selected autopilot. He had too much to think about to focus on driving in bad weather. 

Starfleet’s Admiralty Council had offered a second five-year mission. But while he and Jim had both jumped at the opportunity when their first mission began, the past two years had been partially dedicated to looking after their adopted son. 

Spock had been… apprehensive about starting a family. He had never considered children for his life before. Now, oddly, he could not imagine his life otherwise. Without any doubt, he loved Stavik as absolutely and unconditionally as he knew his mother had loved him. 

And Jim was his other half. Together, they needed to make choices that would best benefit their family as a whole. Even if those choices took them away from the Enterprise. 

These things, he knew. What he did not know was how Jim would deal with such a sacrifice. No matter how much his mate was willing to give up for his family, being a starship captain was his first, best destiny. A change to a sedentary lifestyle could truly hurt him. 

The car pulled into their driveway while Spock delved into these thoughts, troubled. He pulled the collar of his jacket up and quickly made his way to the door. It was unlocked. 

“Try to get a higher bounce,” he heard Jim say as he stepped into the foyer, dripping. Something clicked on the eco-wood floor. He frowned and hung his jacket up before going in search of his bondmate. 

“A little further this time.” The sound of glass dragging lightly on wood. He rounded the corner. 

On the floor, lying on their bellies, were Jim and Stavik. They faced each other, a bunch of small, white, plastic balls scattered around their elbows. A dozen glasses sat between them. Jim craned his neck upward and saw him standing there. 

“Oh, hi Spock,” he said, smiling. “Wanna play?”

“What,” Spock asked, surveying the pair of them, “are you doing?”

“I’m teaching the kid a valuable skill set for his future life.”

“Father has been informing me that the ability to bounce ping-pong balls into glasses is a necessary skill for procuring social acceptance in some human spheres.” Stavik looked absolutely intrigued as he explained, picking up a ball to demonstrate. It bounced and clinked into a glass. 

“You have taught Stavik how to play beer pong,” Spock said in a tone of flat resignation. At some point, he had ceased to be surprised by his bondmate’s antics. 

“How do you know about beer pong?” Kirk asked, looking up at him in amused bewilderment. 

“In my first year at the Academy, my roommate forced me to attend certain functions where the game was played,” he said. 

“First,” Kirk replied immediately, “no one can force you to do anything; I should know. Second, did you actually play?”

“I did not.”

“Well then. Stavik, this is why your sa-mekh only made one friend at the Academy and only after he had graduated. He is a stick in the mud.”

“Lieutenant Uhura is a valuable friend,” Spock defended. “I much prefer to have one genuine relationship than many shallow ones developed over a game of drunken absurdity.”

Kirk waved a hand in his general direction in a ‘fine, fine’ gesture. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Wanna play?”

Spock considered them. For a moment, he thought of going upstairs to grade assignments. But his legs folded gracefully and he joined them on the floor. 

He picked up a ball and inspected it. “This could be a valuable lesson in the physics of force and trajectory,” he concluded.

“That’s the spirit,” Kirk cheered and proceeded to instruct them both on various ‘trick shots’ 

…

Rain continued to pound on the windows. After growing up in a desert, Spock considered rain (as long as he wasn’t standing in it) a soothing and endlessly fascinating sound. 

The ping-pong balls were put away and the glasses freshly washed. Kirk had been about to just stack them back into the cabinet, but the fingerprints and corresponding transfer of germs had freaked Spock out. 

They had eaten dinner on the floor as well. After the dishes were cleaned, they returned to lounging on the eco-wood and talked until the sky outside turned black. Stavik, after an hour, fell asleep with his head against Jim’s leg. 

“You are very lucky Stavik is Vulcan and cannot therefore be inhibited by alcohol,” Spock said quietly. Kirk chuckled silently, sliding his hands under the curled body of the small boy and gathering him up. 

“Yeah, he’ll be a rockstar,” Jim said, smiling. “All of his human friends will get sloppy drunk and Stavik will be a beer pong god, doing trick shots off the walls and shit.”

“That is not what I meant.” Spock pinned him with a hard look. Kirk rolled his eyes happily and turned to take the sleeping child upstairs. Spock followed. 

Once the boy was tucked in and lights throughout the house were off, Jim and Spock retreated quietly to their bedroom. Instead of preparing for sleep, Jim sat heavily on the edge of their bed and looked up at him sadly. 

“What are we going to do, Spock?” he said softly. 

Spock removed his shoes and went to stand in front of his bondmate. He sank down to the carpeted floor, legs folded underneath. Jim’s blue eyes peered down at him.

“Here, we have steady hours, flexible schedules – we can spend time with him. And he has stability. We’ll never have that on the Enterprise.”

Spock thought for a second. “When Stavik first came to us,” he began, “one of the arguments we made to remain on the Enterprise was rooted in the rare opportunity with which the environment provided him. That cannot be replicated on Earth or on New Vulcan.”

“I know,” he replied. “And I still think that’s great, but he’s so young. He needs both of us; if something happens, it’s not like he has anyone else to take care of him. I don’t like the idea that living on the Enterprise forces him to face the possibility of losing us with every dangerous away mission.”

Spock nodded. “The Enterprise itself was threatened, on average, every six-to-eight months in the past five years. The crew signed on knowing the risks they would face. Is it fair to ask a child to face those same risks for the sake of his parents’ occupations?”

Jim looked down silently at his hands, thinking. After a moment, he glanced up across the room. Spock followed his gaze to the small, wooden box on the shelf next to a row of first edition books. 

Inside the box was one of Jim’s most precious treasures: a chip containing original recordings from the Kelvin, the only sample of his father’s voice that remained. “Growing up, I got tired of hearing about what a hero my dad was,” he confessed softly. “Now I get it. If something ever threatened him and I could stop it, I’d do anything to protect him, and you. Maybe the best way to do that is to remove the danger before it happens.”

“To remain here,” Spock summarized. A bleak resignation resonated through the bond. He lifted his hands and slid them around Jim’s, his long fingers chasing the cold away. “I agree.”

Before they went to sleep, Spock retrieved a PADD from his side table and composed a message to Admiral Archer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be waaayy more serious than I had planned. Oh well. I promise a silly ending. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Saturday morning, Spock and Kirk received visual communication from Admiral Archer, who looked rather un-admiral-ish (Spock assured Jim this was not a word) in red pajamas. 

Spock’s PADD pinged insistently in the middle of their conversation. “I will return,” he told Kirk softly, so as not to interrupt Archer’s deep rant challenging their decision to reject the second five-year mission. 

The screen flashed at him to confirm another visual communication. He quietly left the room and accepted the channel. His counterpart appeared. 

“Ambassador Spock,” he greeted. The ambassador gave a casual Vulcan salute, which he returned. “It is 0120 in the colony on Vafer-Tor.”

Ambassador Spock smiled at the implied question. “I have an important matter to attend to.”

“How may I help you, Ambassador, so that you may return to your task?” he asked. 

“You misunderstand. Speaking to you is the important matter,” he said. “Admiral Archer sent an urgent communication last night indicating that you and Jim intend to give up the Enterprise.”

Spock inclined his head, a buzz of irritation prickling at the base of his neck. “Indeed. I do not understand how our decision is any of your concern, given your vow to not interfere in the events of this timeline.”

The Ambassador accepted that. “Admiral Archer suggested your decision was based around your son, Stavik. Have the conditions of your agreement with the Vulcan High Council changed?”

Spock sighed to himself. “While the conditions given to the Council have not changed, our feelings about raising a child in space have. The Enterprise is not a safe environment for Stavik. He is too young to be in a position where Jim or I could not return from a mission and it is not acceptable to us that his life is in danger every time the ship is threatened. The risks simply outweigh the benefits.”

The older version of himself seemed to take this in. After a moment, he said, “When my Jim was finally forced to accept the promotion to admiral, it killed something in his spirit, something I was afraid he would never regain. A demotion to the rank of captain again was the only thing that gave him joy.”

“You are implying that Captain Kirk is nothing without his title,” Spock said, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “While I agree that Jim is best able to shine in his current position as captain, there is a marked difference between giving up the role willingly and being forced to the ground by unfavorable circumstances.”

“I have simply told you what I have observed,” the ambassador told him, holding up a hand as if to prevent his younger self from becoming agitated. “While there are as many differences between my captain and yours as there are between the two of us, James T. Kirk’s enthusiasm for adventure is a universal constant.”

Spock knew that. And it wounded his heart that they had been put in a position that would curb his mate’s instinct for exploration. But he also knew that if anything ever happened to Stavik as a result of living on the Enterprise, Jim would be devastated. These were the sacrifices they made for family. 

…

 

Stavik leaned close to the wall by the stairs. His sensitive ears picked up both conversations. He recognized Admiral Archer’s pleading tone as he spoke to his father and the older voice of Ambassador Spock downstairs. 

From what he had gathered thus far, his parents had rejected the second five-year mission. For him. 

This was completely unacceptable. 

He listened for another few minutes to collect as much information as possible, then returned to his room. As soon as he heard his father sign off his conversation with Archer, he commed into Starfleet and requested a private channel with the admiral. 

The older human’s confused face appeared moments later. “Stavik?”

“Good morning, sir,” Stavik greeted with a quick ta’al. “I believe we have a mutual problem.”

“What?”

“My parents intend to remain on Earth, leaving the Enterprise to another command team. Their reasoning is flawed. I offer my services to you so that we might convince them to choose otherwise.”

A smile twitched on Archer’s face. Stavik did not understand; this matter was serious. He continued to wait for the admiral’s reply. 

“Alright, Stavik,” he said finally, leaning forward over folded hands. “Let’s plan this out logically.”

“I intend to, sir,” he answered, sitting straighter. For the next ten minutes, they plotted. When Archer concluded their meeting, he wore a broad grin. 

“Live long and prosper, son,” he chuckled. Stavik offered a solemn farewell gesture and the screen went dark. 

“Computer,” he instructed quietly, so that his parents would not overhear, “open new file. Title: An Analysis of Erroneous Logic Among Starfleet Parental Figures and an Argumentation Against the Results of Said Illogic. By Stavik Kirk.”

…

On Monday, Spock and Kirk simultaneously received a message from Stavik during a two-hour break between classes. Kirk kicked back in a chair and grinned at the title. Spock did not find time to read the full report until one of his classes was busy taking a test. 

_Have you read Stavik’s essay?_ popped up on the screen of his PADD. 

_I have just finished it._ he replied. He could feel his mate’s smile through their bond. Usually they spoke via their connection, but it had become a rule while on duty, they extended a boundary so that neither interrupted the other if one of them happened to be occupied by something important. 

_Our kid rocks. I told you so._

_I have never disagreed with you on that point._

He was about to follow up on that last message when a schedule alert flashed at the corner of the screen. He opened it. 

Family Intervention  
1830 hours  
Kirk residence, dining room table 

Jim’s laughter rolled through his mind. 

_I think the kiddo is pissed at us._

A moment later, he responded _I believe you are correct._

It seemed to be a family trait to not take executive decisions well. He did not know whether to be proud or irritated that Stavik’s stubbornness came from both of his parents. 

…

Much later that evening, Kirk hung up his jacket and started into the hall. Spock wouldn’t be home for another hour; he had an experiment going in the long-range sensor lab. Stavik met him in the living room. “Hey, kiddo. Nice paper.”

“You have had time to consider my argument?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think we need to talk about it, though; this isn’t an easy decision and you need to realize that as your parents, we do have the final say-so.”

Stavik nodded gravely. “I understand and accept this. However, I believe it is important to assert my conclusion that you and Sa-mekh are behaving under an irrational assumption concerning my wellbeing.”

Kirk smiled and ran his hand over the boy’s head. “Alright. We’ll talk tonight; wanna help me make dinner?”

“Affirmative.”

They cut vegetables for a salad until Spock got home. Stavik listened as his Father illuminated the field strategies of Alexander the Great. When the older Vulcan arrived and came into the kitchen, Kirk paused long enough to press a brief kiss to Spock’s lips, then turned back to the salad. 

“Had he not died so young, do you believe Earth’s history would have been greatly changed?” Stavik asked. 

“Hard to say,” Jim replied. “I do think our perceptions are colored because of his age when he died. If he had had the chance to get older, we wouldn’t think of him as the eternally youthful military general. Kind of good for him, actually; his image was immortalized exactly as he wanted to be presented to the world.”

They looked over at Spock, who leaned against the counter and looked intently at his bondmate. “Do you have a favorite historical figure, Sa-mekh?”

“As is traditional for a Vulcan, I hold Surak in the highest regard,” he answered. He glanced at Kirk again. 

“I know, I know,” Jim sighed. “I get all geeky when I talk about books and history.”

“Your academic side is rarely so well engaged,” Spock told him. “It is fascinating.”

“Mmhmm. Grab the plates.”

They sat at the table. Kirk looked expectantly at Stavik. 

“It is not 1830 hours yet, Father,” he said. 

“I don’t think the world will stop turning if you deviate from your schedule by a few minutes.”

Stavik looked at Spock. “Is this change convenient for you, Sa-mekh?”

Spock nodded. “Very well.” Stavik picked up his plate and moved around the table so that he sat directly in front of his parents. He breathed deeply and then glared forcefully at the pair of them. 

“It is my understanding that this expression generally leads to Father achieving his goals in arguments,” Stavik prefaced. “I will now begin.”

After an hour of statement/rebuttal debate, Kirk sat doubled up in his chair, laughing. He wiped water from his eyes and grinned at his son. Spock simply leaned back in his chair, cradling a glass of water. 

“Anything else?” Jim asked, breathless from chuckling. 

“Yes,” Stavik said, giving them both another angry look. “While you are my parents and I respect you, my research has led me to the conclusion that interventions must be finished with threats of dire consequences. Therefore, if you do not accept the five-year voyage mission and agree to bring me with you, I will run away to study and promote orgone energy.”

Kirk had no idea what that meant, but Spock’s brows snapped together. “What?” he asked. 

“Orgone energy is a concept of pseudoscience,” Spock explained briefly. “I find it difficult to believe your logical mind would find peace studying such a fallacious theory.”

Stavik inclined his head and accepted this. “You are correct. Instead, I will run away and create a Vulcan version of beer pong.”

“It is inappropriate to lie, even in jest,” Spock told him. But he looked resigned; Stavik knew he had won. 

“Vulcans never lie, Sa-mekh.”

Kirk smiled appreciatively at his son. “He’s stubborn enough to do it just to spite you, Spock,” he told his bondmate. 

Spock leaned back in his chair and breathed in acquiescence. He looked at Jim and then back at Stavik. “While none of your points are strong enough to sway me from holding your life and wellbeing at the highest priority, your argument is evidence enough that grounding this family from the Enterprise will do more harm than good.”

Jim smiled again. “Sometimes being happy is more important than being safe,” he said simply, remembering when he and Spock fought over the very same problem when they first bonded. “Besides, if you started doing trials for Vulcan beer pong, I’d sign Spock up as a test subject. He might disown us both after that.”

“Indeed,” the older Vulcan muttered into his water. “Very well. The Command building is closed for the night. We may be able to meet with Admiral Archer Monday morning. 

“Alright,” Kirk said, standing to collect plates. 

“I will clean,” Stavik volunteered, getting up. When they separated to go to sleep a few hours later, he could not help but release a triumphant smile. 

…

Archer leaned back, feet up on his desk, a huge smiled plastered across his face as Kirk and Spock walked into his office the following morning. “Right on time, Mr. Kirk, Mr. Spock.”

“What?” Jim asked, closing the door. 

Archer held up his PADD. “My undercover agent told me you were coming.”

“Underc— Stavik. You corrupted my son?” 

“We share a common cause. Is that your acceptance, then?” he asked, eyeing the folder in Kirk’s hand. 

“Yes, sir,” he sighed, a smile fighting for control of his mouth. “Your mole was very convincing.”

“There’s a future for that boy in Starfleet,” Archer promised, taking the folder happily. “Ah, good. Good. Everything is in order, then. Thank you, gentlemen.”

They left. Spock’s eyebrow shot up. “Stavik is eight years old and his ability to manipulate has exceeded that of my father.”

“You say that like you’re proud,” Kirk commented as they rounded a corner. 

“I am.” 

Jim laughed. “I wonder if Stavik would like—”

“If the conclusion to that sentence,” Spock interrupted, “is anything alcohol related, I advise you to think very carefully about whether or not you wish to sleep on the downstairs sofa tonight.”

As they split ways to go teach their morning classes, Jim’s laughter rang in Spock’s mind and he knew that all would be well as long as his family was happy.


End file.
